Infinite Relfex
by Apsycho Spartan
Summary: The recently deceased gather for an endless game of death and horror. It's Infinite. There is no time to think, its kill or be killed. It's all Reflex. Max is simply the most recent to join this lethal game. Gantz is in control, that's the theory anyways.


Disclaimer: Gantz and all characters from the manga, games and show are not my property, they belong to Hiroya Oku, Shueisha and Dark Horse (don't sue me please…therz no point, im broke as a joke :'( ) but the characters n stuff I make up are all mine…MINE! MUHAHAH!…

Thanks: Hiroya Oku for making an awesome manga, Shueisha and Dark Horse, Underoath, pixie stix

**_Author's Notes: Meh… jus hoping to make something that is 1/10th the awesomeness as the original...i will probably fail -hangz head in shame-…im writing the third chapter right now..which is weird cause for my Halo Fanfic i planned things out way before I even got that far…so I only have a rough plan and the beginning thought out…must…brain storm :o...also im not really sure how graphic im allowed to get with this stuff...cause i wanna be true to tha manga...meh..._**

Gantz: Infinite Reflex

Phase One

A Gantz FanFiction written by me:

ApsychoSpartan - A.K.A. Apsycho or Asyko

Chapter 1 - To Whom It May Concern

* * *

So hold your head up high,

and know it's not the end of the road.

At the end of the road,

you'll find what you've been longing for.

This is not your war.

Because in this place, we're all as good as dead.

_- Underoath_

* * *

The hollow metallic ring of an aluminum pop can hitting the pavement echoed along the empty street. Max kicked the empty can along the sidewalk as he strolled at a slow and carefree pace. The weak yellow-orange light of the sodium vapor streetlamps created varying layers of wavering shadows along the deserted street, the thickest of which were under the broad maple trees that swayed slightly in the late evening wind.

Max pulled his hoodie zipper down in the gentle wind, feeling the light breeze through his t-shirt, a cool hand caressing his chest. It had not been a particularly cold winter, but Max wore the hoodie out of habit not need. As far as he was concerned, he'd rather go without underwear than his hoodie. Probably not that far, but he preferred his hoodie to none at all - much like how he preferred his music.

So he walked down the dimly lit street kicking an empty can with music pumping in his ears. He was in a comfortable mood, having just come from hanging out at a friend's house. There was nothing but cool wind, whispering trees and good tunes in the air. Later, when he got home it would be different, but Max preferred not to think about that and enjoy the moment.

Headlights cut through the row like trees and flooded the street with light stronger than the weak, flickering streetlights as a sleek and sporty Mitsubishi Eclipse rounded the corner at the end of the street. At the same time the thumping beat of its blaring music reached his ears, or rather, the vibrations reached his body. The deep bass of the hip-hop track seemed to pulsate throughout his whole body as the car came roaring past at probably twice the legal speed limit for that street.

"_Probably high as hell_," he thought, a bemused smile on his lips and lightly shaking his head as the car flew past the stop sign and down the next street.

Max resumed his can kicking and kept on walking. He looked upward at the dusky sky through the dark tree branches. During the winter the night came quickly and Max was fine with that. There was something about the night; it always seemed to have a surreal quality to it, that's why it was his favorite time. Little did he know how surreal it was going to get. But for now, in that moment, everything was pleasant, everything was copacetic.

Max didn't consider himself overly intelligent, because he didn't like to. He didn't want to start acting like some smug jerk, that wasn't him. But even though he tried not to, he couldn't help but think sometimes that he was a little better than others - he was a jumble of contradictions with good intentions. But those paved the road to hell and being riddled with self doubt and hatred wreaked havoc with his self-esteem.

The result was that he was not very talkative, at least around people he didn't know well. He wasn't popular, but he had his group of friends. For the most part he liked to think that he was at least normal, but that was probably too optimistic.

He was a shy nerdy freak and he knew it. He was an introvert that was only comfortable around people he called friends. Most of the time he preferred not to be noticed, happy to drift off, daydreaming in the background. He often wondered why people couldn't just be as relaxed as him. "No stress, no mess" was his motto.

He reached the end of the block and paused on the corner. He threw quick glances down both sides of the street and was just starting to move forward when a voice stopped him.

"You got any spare change?" said the voice and Max turned to find a bum who had walked up to him surprisingly quietly, probably because the music in his ears dulled the outside sounds.

The bum was dressed in typical bum attire; a slightly dirty overcoat, a well worn shirt underneath, a pair of frayed gloves, scuffed and dirty shoes and unwashed hair.

"Nah, sorry, I spent my last buck on a bag of chips," said Max, giving a small shrug and a sympathetic look.

Max turned and began hastily moving across the crosswalk, feeling very awkward. Max had told the truth, he didn't have any money on him right now and he had spent the last of it on a bag of chips at school. Max wondered though, if that hadn't been the case what would he have said. He knew he probably would have lied and felt guilt begin to gnaw at him for the imagined lie. He stepped onto the sidewalk of a new block - his familiar pop can left behind.

He was never really picked on, but that was probably because he never really did anything to stand out. So when several drunken jocks stumbled around the corner at the end of the block he didn't really think anything of it. Their drunken laughter spilled across the street and he recognized a couple of them from his school.

They moved unsteadily closer, one on slightly wobbly legs. Right before they reached him Max sidestepped onto the grass to let them pass. The particularly drunk one on the end seemed startled and confused by Max's sudden motion and jerked to the side as well. He sloppily spilled some of his beer on himself.

"Ahh! What the hell!" he exclaimed loudly as he looked downward at himself.

The jock's friends stopped at his outcry and then started laughing when they saw the stain spreading on his pants. Max couldn't help but chuckle at what was obviously the jock's own drunken mistake, and that was a big mistake.

"Ooh, you think that's funny huh? Making me spill beer on myself?" said the jock, having a little trouble getting the words out without slurring them, his friends only laughing harder at how he sounded.

"Haha…yeah," said Max, laughing along with the others at the jock's attempt to sound serious, not realizing how serious the situation really was.

"Well your not gunna think it's so funny when you buy me some new clothes," said the jock, his drunken eyes narrowing.

"What?" said Max laughing at the jock's outragious statement, "I'm not gunna pay for your clothes."

"No way in hell, huh? Well I think your gunna pay for them right now!" said the jock, his voice turning angry, his friends had been looking on and laughing, but now they moved in slightly closer.

Max couldn't help but laugh. He'd never said, "No way in hell."

"Yeah, bro, you can't just go around makin' people piss themselves," said another jock, laughing at his own little joke, as the light of another car rounding the corner began to sweep across them.

"I'm not paying for anything I didn't do," said Max, shaking his head and trying to laugh the situation off.

"Well I think you are!" said the angry jock, stepping closer and giving Max a shove, his face lit by the approaching cars headlights.

"What the hell man!?" said Max, then making the mistake of returning the shove.

The jock's expression turned to fury as Max shoved him back and he shrugged off the push surprisingly quickly. Even drunk the jock still weighed more than Max and had more power to put behind that weight. It happened faster than Max could anticipate.

Moving surprisingly fast for a drunk, the jock rammed his shoulder into Max so hard it knocked the air from his lungs. Time slowed as Max was lifted from the ground and began moving backwards. In that moment his head turned to the left and his eyes widened at the sight of the oncoming bus, its lights vividly outlining everything.

"_I don't want to die_," thought Max as fear drove into his brain.

Next was the front of the bus, which slammed into his head at 34 mph, causing massive head trauma, smashing his skull and snapping his neck instantly. His lifeless body hit the road and was further mangled under the wheels, ending in a heap of disjointed limbs bleeding on the asphalt. The blood spread on the pavement and that's when the screams started.


End file.
